


Not Yet

by insufferableknowitall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Love You, Mutual Pining, Pining, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall
Summary: The night after the close call at the Lovegood house, Ron has something he wants to say to Hermione. She, however, is not having it.FLUFF, one-shot, agonizing mutual pining.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 84





	Not Yet

“This is ridiculous,” Hermione hissed once Harry was out of earshot, “He’s being ridiculous!”

Ron couldn’t help but agree, and sincerely this time - since his return, he’d been taking Hermione’s side on nearly every argument, much to Harry’s chagrin. But this time, he meant it.

It was the evening after the close call at the Lovegood’s and Harry had been talking nonstop about the Hallows ever since. “I think it’s what Dumbledore wanted me to do,” he had said to Ron excitedly, as Hermione was coming back into the tent from her watch.

“Dumbledore wanted you to look for Horcruxes, Harry. Horcruxes,” Hermione had replied crossly, and Ron was grateful that it was Harry’s turn to take watch because otherwise, Hermione was going to bite his head off.

While Harry sat outside, undoubtedly jumping to conclusions about Hallows and Horcruxes, Hermione slid into a seat across from Ron, who had been watching the exchange between his two friends over a cup of tea.

“What is he thinking?” Hermione continued, glancing at the entrance to the tent and narrowing her eyes at the back of Harry, “I mean, he’s just...completely derailed! All because some old, arguably idiotic, man tells him a children’s story about these Hallows…”

“I know,” Ron muttered back, shaking his head and trying to keep himself from smiling - Hermione hadn’t spoken to him for so long without a pointed glare or a snide remark since his return. She seemed to have forgotten her anger towards him in her frustration with Harry.

“I just...I mean, we already don’t know what we’re doing, I hate to say it, and we have no idea where the next Horcrux is, it could be anywhere, and he’s not even trying to think about them!”

Ron grimaced, glanced at the back of Harry he could see through the tent flaps, and shrugged. “You know how Harry gets. I mean...remember last year, with Malfoy? Even if he was right, in the end...once he gets started on something, he’s bloody impossible.”

Hermione shook her head. “We’ll just have to work harder, I suppose.” Hurriedly, she stood from her seat and then seconds later, returned with a rather large book that made a thud as she set it on the table.

Ron stood to make himself useful - he wasn’t sure what he was planning to do, but figured he’d start sifting through books as well. As he stood, he winced in pain - he’d nearly forgotten that just hours ago, parts of the Lovegood house had crumpled on him and nearly crushed him underneath. It was only thanks to Harry and Hermione that he’d gotten out okay, as they pried the debris off of him and pulled him out.

Hermione frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Just bruised up, is all.”

“I have dittany, you know.”

“I’m fine, really.” Part of him didn’t want her to bother herself; he’d caused her enough grief in the last months already. And besides, it really wasn’t that bad. He walked gingerly towards Hermione’s stack of books and picked one off the top, then flopped onto the armchair and took out a blank sheet of parchment, in hopes that he would find something worthy of taking notes.

Hermione cleared her throat. Ron glanced up and saw her standing before him, her small frame towering over his slouched over one, stretching something in her hand towards him. “Dittany,” she said, a flush on her cheeks, “Just take it. I have a hard time believing you’re perfectly fine when you nearly got crushed by a bookshelf.” She then snorted and muttered something about Mr. Lovegood and his Erupment horn.

Ron sighed and gave in, taking the bottle from her hands and dabbing the dittany upon a few of the cuts on his forearms, as well as one on his ankle. She stood there over him, slightly chewing her lip, as if wanting to say something but afraid to speak. So, Ron spoke first.

“Close call today,” he muttered, capping the dittany and handing it back to Hermione, who busied herself by putting it away in the bag. She nodded and glanced out towards Harry, who they could see was lost deep in his thoughts outside, and shook her head.

“We can’t trust anyone, I suppose,” she said, “It was stupid, I shouldn’t have suggested going there, and now Harry’s on this whole Hallows thing…”

He watched her from his seat, the way her cheeks were flushed and the way her eyes narrowed up when she said the word “Hallows,” as if it was suddenly something revolting and bothersome. It nearly made him smile - then he thought of the events of the day, how close they really had been, the fear that had taken over when the death eaters showed up at the Lovegood’s house. What would have happened if they had been caught? He couldn’t bare the thought; not only the fear of what they would do to him, let alone Harry, but the fear of what they would do to Hermione, a known muggle-born.

Hermione opened her mouth to continue speaking, presumably to further chastise Harry’s budding obsession with the Hallows, but Ron cut her off. “Hermione?”

Her gaze snapped away from Harry and back to Ron, who swallowed hard when her eyes met his. “Hmm?”

“I just...I’m really - ”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes, “Don’t apologize, not again. Honestly, Ronald, if you don’t know that I’ve forgiven you by now then you must be dafter than I thought. I...I get it, okay?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, taken back by the sudden outburst. She fiddled with her hands, breaking eye contact and continuing to talk. “I mean, I know that...thing had an effect on you. I know it was bad, and you lost so much blood with the splinching, I...I get it. It got to your head. You don’t need to tell me what it made you think, I know it made me think terrible things, but please. For Merlin’s sake, stop apologizing, it’s driving me mad.”

She met his gaze once more, eyes narrowed and arms still crossed over her chest. Ron couldn’t help but grin. “I wasn’t going to apologize again,” he says, an air of amusement in his voice. He’d already apologized so many times he lost track, and Hermione had already told him off enough times that he knew better to speak the words “I’m sorry” into existence again.

“Oh. Well..what were you going to say, then?” she sputtered.

Ron turned red in the face and frowned, as if mustering up all his courage, and then looked her square in the face. “I was just thinking,” he started, half expecting her to make a snide remark about his thinking habits (though, she remained quiet). “I mean, it was a close call.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“Right, yeah. Just...it’s gonna get worse from here, we’ve been pretty lucky up till now, don’t you think? And I just, I just want you to know, I mean, you’re my best friend and - ”

“No you don’t,” she interrupted, raising a hand to stop him and going red in the face. She turned away from him and started to pace, while he remained in the chair looking as though she had knocked the wind from him, “Nope, you’re not doing this right now, Ronald Weasley. Don’t you dare talk like we’re going to die.”

“Well, when else am I supposed to say it?” he protested, standing and facing her. “You don’t even know what I was going to say, Hermione.”

She put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear it!”

He stepped forward and gently wrapped his hands around her wrists, lowering them away from her ears. They hadn’t touched much since he had returned, with the exception of frantically grabbing for one another at the Lovegood’s, and the feeling of her skin against his still send tingles throughout his extremities.

“Hermione,” he spoke, his voice much lower and softer than he expected, “I know I was an arse when I was wearing that thing. And loads of other times. And I just...I feel real lucky, so far. You know, how I was able to get back here to you two, how you both were okay while I was gone, how we made it out of the Lovegood’s just barely...speaking of, what you did there, throwing me under the cloak, that was brilliant thinking!”

Hermione blushed and muttered, “Thanks.” His hands were still on her wrists, even though they were down by her sides now.

Ron swallowed and continued. “Just don’t know how much longer the luck can last. And I reckon you should know, you don’t have to say anything back, but...you’re the most important person to me, you know, and I - ”

Hermione interrupted him by throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight, so tight the words died in his throat. “Don’t say it,” she muttered into his ear, “Not yet, please.”

“Why not?” he whispered, burying his face into her hair.

“Because...because we’re not going to die, and we’ll have plenty of time after all this to...well…”

He gripped her tighter and could hear her sniff quietly in his ear.

“Just, not yet,” she said, pulling back and glancing down at the floor, eyes slightly watery.

“Okay.”

Outside the tent, they could hear Harry muttering under his breath. “I swear to Merlin…” Hermione muttered, glancing towards Harry and shaking her head. Ron smiled, swallowing hard to keep his own tears from escaping, and Hermione retrieved her book from the table. She perched herself on the armchair and motioned for Ron to sit beside her. He watched and, without lifting her eyes from the page, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed.

“I...you too,” she said, after a few minutes of silence.

They both knew what she was talking about.


End file.
